The End is where we Begin
by MephK
Summary: Immortality, true immortality, cannot be achieved by any living being. So what can be said of a child that keeps on defying death? (Slightly AU, DeathGod!Harry)
1. Prologue

What every wizard knew was that Harry Potter, the child who vanquished the Dark Lord Voldemort, was born on the 31st of July 1980 at 1:26 AM.

What none but one knew, though, was that said child had passed away nearly one hour later, at 2:19 AM, of cardiac deficiency. The infant's emerald eyes closed slowly as his heart stopped, only to start again a few instants afterwards, drawing a sharp breath and crying his lungs out in the mediwitch's arms. Most would call that a miracle. Some would even call it a hint to what he would do later.

Only Augusta Thales knew the truth. Hadrian James Potter had truly and definitely died that day. What Lily and James Potter brought back home a few hours later was not their child. It was something else entirely. Something much more dangerous and powerful.

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><p>Bright green eyes snapped open at the sound of shattered glass downstairs.<p>

_Why do you keep on fighting?_

Soon enough, a frightened woman barged into the infant's room and started warding it hastily against her enemy. The child looked up at her back with his lime green eyes.

_Why bother when your future is already gone?_

"It'll be okay, Harry. Don't worry. Papa and Mama love you." were her words of reassurance, as she stroked the child's face lovingly. Yet she was the one crying, looking down at him with tears in her eyes, trying to be strong for them both.

_Humans are so fragile,..._

The door smashed open and he walked in, darkness surrounding him, eyes red as blood, skin white as death and long hair the color of dried, shattered bones.

… _so easily swayed,..._

The woman stood tall between him and the child, yet not for long. Two words, a flash of green light and she was lying lifeless on the ground.

… _so foolish,..._

The man walked over the woman's corpse and stopped in front of the baby, murder and bloodlust shining in the depth of his eyes. He raised his arm again.

… _so vain._

Green light engulfed the room.

_Why bother?_

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><p>He had been searching for so long... One host after the other, he saw them tear each other apart, he saw them build something to bring it down the next day, he saw them waste their life away for futilities, he saw them expand everywhere, leaving no place untouched, like some kind of virus, leaving nothing but wasted land and grey landscapes behind them.<p>

Yet still no sign of the one he'd been searching for. His empty soul ached constantly after what it had been denied for so long. He wanted to end it so badly. Yet he couldn't. He had been denied that right long ago.

He was forever damned to walk the earth, feared and cursed by all, as he brought them down one by one. Unavoidable. Unstoppable. Unrelenting. Until his existence lost its meaning, its purpose. Until there was nothing left.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**Reviews and comments are welcome, I may continue this story if people are interested in it. :)**

**I am kind of confused as to how to continue that story because I designed this Death based on an OC of mine, Mephistopheles, the Demon Lord of Death. **

**The reason I made this story as a slight AU is because I'll mix several mythology stories in it (mostly as an origin story for this world and the characters I'll add in it). **

**For the story, humans created Evil, and made this Evil into the Devil Mephistopheles so they could blame it on him instead of themselves. So he ended up being the representative of everything we fear: evil, death, darkness, nightmares and so on. He happily terrorized and slaughtered humans and created other demons to serve him. He also created Hell so he could rule on it and manage the souls he had taken and the demons he had created.**

**Of course humans are not only evil, they can be good too, so they also created an Archangel, Lucifer, who represented all that is good, like life, light, justice and so on. He was meant to fight Mephistopheles, and all the evil he brought in the world. Like Mephistopheles, Lucifer also created other angels, and a Heaven to rule upon.**

**They fought for thousands of years, until the day where it ended badly and their souls somehow got mixed, giving Lucifer Mephistopheles' wrath, haughtiness and taste for murder, and giving Mephistopheles Lucifer's empathy, fairness and distaste for perverted behavior.**

**Afterwards, Lucifer saw how vain his task was so he killed all the other angels and proclaimed himself the new Devil, whilst Mephistopheles went in exile and ended up assuming the role of Death only.**

**They kind of became soul mates after that, which is the reason why Mephistopheles keeps on searching for Lucifer. **

**And he takes a host because otherwise he's a spirit and he hears everyone on earth when they curse Death or call him, and it's insufferable and never stops.**

**But all this is kind of complicated so I was considering whether or not use this version or a simpler one where he is just the same Death as in the books (the one who meets the Peverell brothers) who would most likely be trying to find someone worthy of becoming the Master of Death and wielding the Deathly Hallows, and helping him in his job (or even become the next Death). And the 'he can't end it' part meaning that he can't just destroy the hallows and close the debate.**

**What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

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><p>"He's been very quiet, headmaster. Hasn't cried at all," said Hagrid while handing him the baby, nested in a little blanket.<p>

Albus Dumbledore looked at the boy thoughtfully. His little forehead was still red around the raw lightning shaped cut, which had thankfully stopped bleeding a while ago, but he would most likely keep a scar for the rest of his life.

The boy slowly opened his eyes and looked back at him, his face calm and his lime green eyes focused on him with an unusual intensity for a child so young. 'The exact shade of the killing curse...' noticed Dumbledore. 'How intriguing. Is it perhaps a side effect of surviving it?'

He turned and carefully put the child on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive, leaving a note inside the blanket for his family to find. The boy was still looking at him, and he found that it unnerved him in some way, as if the little orphan was weighing his actions, judging him. But that was preposterous. An infant like that couldn't be entirely aware of what was happening, and even less what would happen to him here... His subconscious was playing with him.

* * *

><p>To say that Petunia and Vernon Dursley were scared of their nephew would be an understatement. They were terrified of him.<p>

Some would ask why. Little Harry was calm and quiet, never bothering anyone, never asking for anything more than what he truly needed. He was brilliant in school, never got into fights, and would even help his cousin Dudley with his homework if asked very nicely. Yes, he did not have many friends, did not laugh at the silly jokes children his age said, and would rather keep to himself than mingle among his peers but that was probably because he was an orphan, and was more mature than the others on many levels, wasn't it? Nothing scary, just a really gifted child.

But that was because the others didn't really know him. They didn't live under the same roof as this... thing. This thing that would look at you as if you were the ignorant child, the pitiful insect struggling in the dirt, hardly worth his attention. Others hadn't seen that child kill a dog twice his size just by looking at it. They hadn't witnessed how apathetic, how utterly bored that boy was, no matter what happened. As if he had already seen everything this world had to show, and found it utterly lacking.

So the Dursley's did what they could, they cohabited with this creature, wary even in their own house. They interacted with him as little as could be, making sure whatever he would need was at his disposal, so they didn't have to interact any more than strictly necessary. They avoided him like the plague, and never questioned where he went when he disappeared, sometimes for days on end, happy as they were not to have him here.

Oh, it hadn't started like that. At first they had put his strange behavior on the fact that he was... different. Just like his parents. But they soon had to admit that even his parents hadn't been so... Inhuman. The first – and the last – time Vernon tried to hit the boy, because he had looked at him with such obvious contempt in his eyes, his hand had literally frozen solid before he could even touch the child. The boy was only five at the time. They had to go to the hospital right away and Vernon almost lost his hand. They had tried to get rid of the boy, put him for adoption, ask the social services… They had tried it all. And all of the employees who had been appointed to meet with them either met an untimely death or simply found the boy so smart and polite and peaceful that they couldn't see how anyone would ever want to get rid of him.

Sure, who in the world would want to get rid of a child who can kill them at any moment?

* * *

><p>Near the end of August 1991, Albus Dumbledore apparated in Surrey to bring the young Harry Potter his Hogwarts letter and talk to him about his magical upbringing. He had sent several owls beforehand, but even if the letters had been opened by Harry – a spell on them had checked that – he hadn't received any reply, and Harry hadn't been sighted anywhere in Britain's magical community. It was now mere days before the start of school at Hogwarts, and he had decided that it was time to investigate the matter personally. He knocked politely on the door, and was soon greeted by a distrustful Petunia Dursley.<p>

"You're one of them, aren't you? What do you want?" she snapped warily. But before Albus could answer, a boy's voice rang clearly behind her.

"Aunt Petunia, please let him in. It seems we have a few matters to discuss. You're free to occupy yourself elsewhere, I will entertain our guest for the duration of his visit."

The woman, whose hand was now trembling slightly on the edge of the half open door, eagerly complied and hastily disappeared inside the house. When she was gone, Harry turned to the puzzled headmaster.

"Headmaster. It's been a long time. Please, come in and sit down," said the young boy, his green eyes staring straight back into Dumbledore's as he gestured toward the sofa near the coffee table that sat in the middle of the living room. Dumbledore did so while studying the child curiously. He hadn't expected the child to act so... Mature. Neither had he expected the way Petunia Dursley had done just what he had told her to, without piping a single word. That was intriguing, but for now he would try the grandfatherly approach he had intended to use.

"Ah, Harry, you've grown quite much since we last saw each other. Though I didn't expect you to remember that night, you were quite young after all," he said merrily, his eyes twinkling as the child closed the door and sat down on the sofa in front of him, crossing his legs.

"I have a very good memory," stated Harry "But that is not why you are here today, Headmaster."

"Indeed. I am here to invite you to study at Hogwarts, as your parents wished. I sent you several acceptance letters, but I wasn't sure if you had taken them seriously, considering the fact that you were raised by muggles..."

"Yes, forgive my rudeness. I simply didn't want to make a fuss by officially refusing to attend your school," the young boy said, looking at him as if he was the most boring and ignorant person he ever had to see.

"So you do know about the magical world," the older man mused.

"Indeed. My aunt and uncle may hate it as much as they want, but they still know the most basic information about it." Harry's reply was rather condescending.

"Does this mean that you hold no interest in the magical world?" Dumbledore was quickly losing patience with this disrespectful child.

"I simply said that I do not wish to attend this school."

"You're perhaps a bit young to decide whether or not you will go to Hogwarts. You're still a child and as such you should follow your parents' wishes," the headmaster retorted with a slightly berating look. "We'll go together to Diagon Alley and I'm sure you will change your mind and find the wizarding world is wonderful after all. Much better than what your family must have told you."

"I highly doubt that you are in any position to decide what I would or wouldn't like, headmaster. And I know better than to listen entirely to anyone's opinion. Humans are too biased, wizard or not." The child's answer was simple and cold, his eyes never leaving the elder man's for a single moment, chemical green staring into ice blue. Dumbledore finally had enough of that act and decided to scare the child a bit.

"Harry, you have to go to Hogwarts. I do not know if you remember but the night your parents were killed and you were brought here, a Dark Lord tried to kill you. You cannot remain here with those muggles while that man is still somewhere out there. You need to learn how to defend yourself against him and his followers." Harry arched an eyebrow at the headmaster's outburst, hardly fazed by his words.

"If I remember properly, and believe me when I say that I have a very good memory, that man was blasted to pieces the instant he tried to kill me. I fail to see how his potential survival would be relevant in any way," the raven haired boy calmly replied. Dumbledore sighed.

"Your mother's love has protected you until now but you might not be so lucky the next time. The wizarding world needs you, Harry. You're the only one who can defeat Voldemort. The prophecy says so."

"This is hardly a matter of luck, or love, and you should know better than to listen to prophecies. Fate is ever-changing and capricious at best," Harry intoned. "Anyway, the wizarding world might need me but I don't need it, headmaster. You'll have to do better that that to convince me."

"You're a celebrity, Harry, your fate does not lie among muggles. The wizarding world nearly worships you for what you did. And your parents left you a huge amount of money. Does that seem appealing enough to you?" Dumbledore asked coldly, his grandfatherly pretense definitely gone. This child was definitely nothing like he expected, but if bribery worked he'd have to use that. For now. Harry smirked, green eyes glimmered knowingly.

"No."

The elder man finally had enough. He angrily rose to his full height and summoned all his magical energy around him, the room pulsating and humming with barely contained power.

"ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, HARRY POTTER! YOU WILL DO AS IS EXPECTED OF YOU, WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT. THE GREATER GOOD STANDS ABOVE AN IGNORANT CHILD'S WHIMS."

Harry slowly raised his head and his acid green eyes pierced right into the headmaster's own. He did not show any sign of fear or acknowledgment of the headmaster's power. The next instant, the lights around them flickered before vanishing and everything went dark as silence engulfed the room. The temperature in the room dropped abruptly and all the magic, all the energy inside the headmaster disappeared, as if sucked away by the glacial aura around the boy. Harry's lime green eyes were the only thing glowing in the dark.

"Sit. Back. Down. Now." Each of his words was punctuated by a drop of the temperature around them, his voice was barely a whisper but it felt like thunder in the heavy silence. "We have not finished talking."

"What are you?" the headmaster breathed, trembling slightly against his will. He did not know if it was due to fear or to the currently negative temperature of the room. Perhaps a bit of both. The child remained silent so he continued. "You're not Voldemort."

"Of course not," answered the child lightly, as if nothing had happened. Harry looked at the headmaster as if he were a very dense child. "As I said, this is not a matter of luck. Voldemort met his better that night and paid the price for his miscalculation." He uncrossed his arms and motioned toward the couch with his right hand. "If you would, we still have matters to discuss. I hope that you will prove more open to suggestions now that a few misunderstandings have been cleared."

Dumbledore sat back down heavily. He suddenly looked much more aged than before.

"What do you want?" Breathed out the old man tiredly. Harry smiled and the room's atmosphere returned to normal.

"Freedom." He smiled politely, innocently, at the wizard, before his facial expression became serious again. "I will not suffer having to put up with dumb immature children, nor with pointless classes and boring teachers who will waste my time. I already went through that once, and I would rather avoid having to do it again."

"Would you rather have to put up with the questions and rumors that will spread if someone as famous as you are refuses a magical education?" Dumbledore had gathered himself together and was ready to bargain what he could from his interlocutor.

"I am not flat out refusing a magical education. I simply refuse to sit in a classroom all day long, surrounded by idiots. There is a difference, headmaster." Harry slightly angled his head to the side and watched the older man curiously, waiting to see if he would catch the bait. In that instant he looked more like a child studying an interesting phenomenon than the dangerous and calculating young wizard persona he had previously shown. Dumbledore filed that in a corner of his head for later study and considered his options carefully before replying.

"Are you suggesting correspondence classes, Mr. Potter?" A ghost of a smile flashed on the raven haired boy's face as he regained his previous aristocratic composure.

"Indeed. You can send me the same homework as the other students, and I'll send it back to you completed. I am quite certain you possess a great variety of spells to make sure students do not cheat. I will come to your school to take my exams at the same time as the other students, if necessary. You will have full proof that I am following the courses properly and I will be free to use my time as I please. Do we have a deal?"

"Will you concede to taking classes with your peers if your grades become too low?" Dumbledore carefully bargained. The child studied him intently before answering.

"Only if my work is graded objectively by at least 3 different teachers of this specific domain, each teaching in a different school, and found lacking by every single one of them." Dumbledore sighed inwardly. It would prove difficult to use this clause in his advantage if the child was as much of a genius as he let on.

"This seems quite fair. Do you intend to spend your entire year here, with your relatives? "

"Of course not. There is only so much of their stupidity I can suffer. I should be able to use one of my parents' estates; they must have had several if they were as rich as you say. If not, I will rent a place for myself with the money they left me." He stopped talking for a few seconds before continuing. "And I would appreciate if you could produce at least two paper copies of our deal that we will both sign, so as to make sure that neither one of us will try to ignore it."

Dumbledore wasn't very surprised at the child's words. Of course he wouldn't have made the mistake of forgetting to officially seal the deal after negotiating so mercilessly. That was still worth a try, though. He used his wand to produce 2 copies of their deal, as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. The boy read the contract attentively before signing it with the quill and handing back both items to the older man. His green eyes never left the headmaster's hand as Dumbledore signed both papers, putting one in his robes and handing the other back to the child, who watched it closely before nodding his head lightly, apparently satisfied with what he saw.

"Nevertheless, I must tell you that this house in which your relatives live is the only place in Britain, beside Hogwarts, where you will be safe from the Dark Lord and his followers. It would be unwise for you to leave it for too long or too often," the headmaster hedged, trying to make the child change his mind.

"I doubt your government would like to have me perform magic in the middle of a muggle neighborhood. Nor would they like to learn that I have lived the last 10 years of my live amongst a magic-hating muggle family," replied the boy dismissively. They both knew that this last piece of information could prove threatening to the headmaster's political influence and popularity.

"Fine," conceded Dumbledore, dropping the dangerous subject, before broaching another. "Do you wish for one of the teachers to accompany you to Diagon Alley to buy what you will need for your studies, and introduce you to the magical world?" asked the headmaster.

"If you must. Though I'd rather you just give me a few indications to find the place. The rest shouldn't be so difficult," answered the child while tucking the contract away in one of his shirt's pockets.

"I fear I must insist. I will ask Professor Snape to meet you here tomorrow afternoon, so he can show you Diagon Alley and a few practical things you will need to know to live among wizards. I am quite certain that he will be relieved to leave you as soon as he possibly can. Does that seem acceptable to you?"

"That arrangement should be acceptable. And it will probably prove less troublesome than making Uncle Vernon drive me there." Dumbledore inwardly rejoiced at this little victory. Severus might prove quite challenging for the boy. He did have a way around contempt and cynicism, after all, and could tame many opponents with a few carefully chosen words.

"Are we done, then?" The headmaster was getting tired of this battle of wits with a child more than 10 times his junior.

"I do believe so." The boy got up and escorted the older man to the door before offering to shake his hand, an almost mocking smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "It was a pleasure dealing with you, headmaster." Dumbledore didn't smile in return but still shook his hand.

"Oh, and, Mr. Potter, do not forget to send me your new address by owl before the 1st of September when you will have settled for the year."

"I will not," answered the child before closing the door after him.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>

**Thanks to feral-kuga for co-writing and beat-ing that story. I surely wouldn't have advanced as much in writing this story without her ideas and help. XD **

**I hope you will all like this chapter that (hopefully) sets this story's bases a bit more clearly than the prologue. (I'm afraid I have a sweet tooth for mysterious dramatic openings. XD)**

**I'm already working on the second chapter, which might or might not arrive before the end of the month (Depending on how I fare with my upcoming exams) and might or might not contain more action than this one. XD**

**Any comments/critiques/ideas are welcome! :)**


	3. Chapter 2

To say that Severus Snape was annoyed at having to show _Mr Potter _around Diagon Alley, and subsequently suffer the brat's presence for most of the afternoon, was an understatement. He was quite peeved. The headmaster usually asked the other professors to do this but had heavily insisted that Severus should go this time, without offering a proper explanation, as usual. A predicament that led him to his current position on the doorstep of the number 4, Privet Drive and in front of Petunia's horse face.

"I'm here for Potter, Petunia. Go fetch him and we will hopefully be rid of each other's presence for another decade." drawled the potion master.

"He's not here." snapped Petunia before rudely closing the door in his face. Severus heard a few locks click in place before the woman's shrilly voice rose again. "You _freaks_ are not welcome here. Especially after what happened the last time. What if the neighbors saw it? Insane old coot!" He heard her walk away while muttering other insults against wizards.

"Petunia, don't make me blast the damn door. That would be tiresome for us both." replied the dark haired man in an annoyed voice, rolling his eyes at her obvious overreaction to his presence.

"I told you, he's not here!" she shouted back from somewhere within the house.

Snape was reaching for his wand, a spell on the tip of his tongue, when he heard someone coming on his right. He mentally cursed and turned to properly glare at the intruding pedestrian, his wand still hidden within his robe. The young dark haired teenager stopped in front of him and looked back at him innocently, tilting his head to the side as he did so.

"From the amount of shrilling Aunt Petunia just sent your way, I can safely guess that you are a wizard. Mr Snape, I presume."

"And from your arrogant demeanor and horrible haircut, I will deduce that you are Mr Potter." snarled back the potion master.

"It's a family trait, then. Good to know that I have an excuse." smirked the boy in a way that was not so innocent anymore. "Let's go, then. No matter how attractive the prospect of embarrassing Petunia is, I have many things to do, and so do you, in all likelihood."

And the boy just looked up at him, with that expectant, and almost impatient, almost annoyed, glint in his eyes. And Severus could only ponder how someone so young could be so proper and so insufferable at the same time. He plastered his best scowl on his face and glared at the boy. And that wasn't difficult, really, all he had to do was look at the little Potter lookalike and a wave of resentment and hatred naturally came rushing in his veins. He grasped the child's shoulder and Apparated to Diagon Alley, and he really didn't care if half of Petunia's neighbors saw them.

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><p>He had almost, <em>almost<em>, struck back when he had felt the foreign magic wash over him. He had stopped himself at the last second, before his aura sucked the wizard's magic – and perhaps his soul – away. The other had thought it was weakness, surprise. He had seen the satisfaction in the other's eyes, bordering on sadism. Hadn't they been outside, had he not seen the sharp intelligence behind the black eyes, he would have snapped, and made a scene. Like the last time. And no matter how much out of character that may have seemed for him, there were times when he just _needed_ to lash out, in a way or another.

He was never too flashy, he had a role to play, after all. But sometimes, seeing them look up at him with just the good mix of terror and despair and awe really made his day. He understood why some craved the rush of power it engendered. It didn't get him off, he wasn't _that_ twisted. Yet. But it did soothe that something inside of him. The something that remembered what he had been before. Before he became Death. Before the Fall, as some of the other Beings, who had been there then, called it. They never said why. They never talked about it. All that he knew was that it had changed many things. And that somehow at some time during those events he had become Death.

But now was not the time to ponder on what was, what had been and what could have been. He focused back on the task at hand: pretend to be discovering Diagon Alley, a place where he had wandered countless times before, in one host or another, during the last few hundred years. He was glad that the black haired man he was with did not seem interested in describing everything, and simply started walking toward Gringotts, expecting him to follow. He did just so, making sure the infamous lightning scar on his forehead was hidden under his black bangs, and taking advantage of the way the crowd parted in front of the scowling professor, his black robes billowing around him and giving him a dark edge. He smirked inwardly, the effect wasn't bad. The man still had to learn, of course, and wouldn't have held a candle to his own dark presence, had he been in an adult body. But still, he was... Amusing. In some way.

Gringotts had not changed at all since the last time he had been there. The place still had that overwhelming Roman architecture, with great columns and marble floors and high ceilings. It spoke of power and efficiency, and was one of those places that he had always appreciated. The Goblins who ran the bank were interesting and interested creatures, especially when in front of someone like himself. They knew the value of time, gold, silence and business. They respected power yet did not bother with hypocrisy. They lived very long lives, and it was not unusual for him to meet a goblin several times, with different hosts. He did appreciate the fact that they would remember him, and were generally closer to the Beings than humans, and some other magical creatures. The added bonus was that they did not, ever, beg him for mercy. Wonderful creatures.

He followed the potion master as he walked up in front of one of the senior goblins and spoke to him:

"I am with Mr Potter, and would like to access his vault. Here is the key" He produced a small golden key from his black robes, along with a sealed letter. "And here is a note from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore regarding the vault 713."

The goblin looked at the black haired man, unfazed by his scowl, before looking down at him, his face severe. Their eyes met, and he allowed his aura to shift, just a bit, brushing the goblin's magic slightly with his own. The goblin's expression did not change, but there was a brief flash of recognition and respect in his eyes, and he could almost see the gears in the elder creature's head spinning as he calculated every way in which he could possibly use and make profit of this new development.

"Mr Harry Potter... How interesting."

He motioned for them to follow him, inside the maze of caves and galleries under the building, and toward their destination. The ride was bumpy, and the professor seemed quite satisfied to be on solid ground again when they stopped in front of the Potter vault. He wasn't surprised to see the vault full of galleons and a few magical artifacts, the Potter were a moderately ancient and wealthy pureblood family, after all. Snape took a handful of coins and put them in a little bag, that the man then handed to him.

"The bronze ones are Knuts, the silver ones are Sickles, and the golden ones Galleons. It's 29 Knuts to a Sickles and 17 Sickles to a Galleon. Remember it because I will not repeat myself." He almost chuckled at that. Remember it? Wizarding currency had barely changed in the last 3 centuries...

"Wizards and their abysmal disregard for logic and mathematics... No wonder you live a century behind the muggles." he sarcastically answered. Humans and their blind rejection of what they don't understand. Some things never change.

"If it bothers you so much, Mr Potter, you could use your popularity to try and change that. The ministry would be delighted to see you so invested in our well being." retorted the potion master with about as much sarcasm.

"Since the probability of wizard politicians being as corrupt and inefficient as muggles ones is of approximatively 90%, I think I will avoid dealing with them as much as possible. It would be quite tiresome." he replied offhandedly.

"Then do not bother me with your unnecessary comments." snapped the black haired man back. He then turned toward the goblin. "To the vault 713, If you would..."

"Wait." Snape turned back toward him and cocked an eyebrow.

"Another comment to share, Mr Potter?" inquired sarcastically the potion master. He looked back at the man with a bored, slightly annoyed, face before turning to the goblin.

"Is there anything in there that I can take before I reach majority?" If he did remember well, the Potter had been the last family in possession of his invisibility cloak, though he could not feel its presence here. He would really appreciate getting it back. He loathed the idea of someone being able to evade him like Ignotus and some of his descendents had.

"That is something you must ask your Account Manager, Mr Potter." came the goblin's sharp reply.

"Very well, I'll talk to him once we're back up there."

"Now let's go. I do not have time to lose." gruffly stated Professor Snape, looking at him suspiciously. Had he displayed too much knowledge? No, a smart person would have figured that out. The man most likely simply disliked him.

Vault 713 was hidden deeper under the bank, and better guarded than the Potter vault. Though he was intrigued to see it empty, expect for a small package that Snape quickly picked up and hid in his robes. He could sense that it was magical, and powerful. Its magical signature felt familiar, but he could not replace it.

"What was that?"

"None of your business, Mr Potter."

Well, that was to be expected. He would have to investigate.

When they returned to the surface, their guide led them to the goblin charged of monitoring the Potter accounts. They talked quickly in hushed tones before the Accounts Manager turned toward them. He greeted him shortly and looked suspiciously at the professor.

"Are you family or related in any way?"

"No." came Snape's quick reply. His face showing disgust at the possibility of it being any different. He chuckled and the man sent him an annoyed glance.

"Then you will have to wait outside. Mr Potter, follow me."

The goblin's office was functional and sparely decorated, aside from the obviously sharp and well used weapons displayed on the wall behind the goblin. As soon as the door was closed, he let his aura freely engulf it, the temperature dropping by a few degrees. The goblin didn't seem very surprised and motioned for him to sit in the guest chair while he retrieved a parchment and a sharp silver knife that he handed to him. He already knew the procedure and slashed his palm with the knife, allowing a few drops of blood to fall on the paper before healing his hand and vanishing the blood on the knife with a flicker of his hand, handing it back to the goblin. Before long, the results appeared on the parchment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Given name:** Harry James Potter

**Age:** Eleven years old

**Biological father:** James Charlus Potter (deceased)

**Biological mother:** Lily Potter nee Evans (deceased)

**Current legal authority: **Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley nee Evans

**Current residence:** 4 Privet Drive, Surrey

**Heir to:**

Lord Potter (current holder of the title: none)

Lord Griffindor (current holder of the title: unknown)

**Properties:**

Godric's Hollow, England

Potter Manor, England

Château de Valchamps, France

Greif Schloss, Germany

Balestiaga Castillo, Mexico

**Vaults:**

Potter Vault 687

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The goblin took the parchment and nodded.

"Well, that seems in order. You should nonetheless be wary, as usual, of identification spells using one's magic as a base, instead of blood. These could detect your true nature, at least partially." He folded the parchment and added it into the Potter file on his desk.

"I know. I want to know which artifacts are in the Potter vault, or legally belong to me. I would also like a resume of all the recent or regular transactions concerning this vault. And I want you to arrange for Potter Manor to become my main residence. Preferably before the start of September." The goblin nodded before extracting a few other parchments from the file and handed them over to him.

"The first is a list of all magical artifacts belonging to the Potter family, and their current whereabouts. The others are all the transactions concerning your vault that happened after your parents' death. I will take care of your residence as fast as possible, and notify you of the progress at your current address, if that is acceptable."

"It is."

He took the papers and studied them carefully. The cloak was indeed listed among his possessions though it was currently in Albus Dumbledore's care. He would have to go to Hogwarts sooner or later to retrieve it. The other artifacts were mildly interesting, and he could always use some of the more advanced books to distract himself. He ended up giving the goblin a short list of objects to mail him when had settled in his new residence.

The transactions were mostly a stipend to the Dursleys for taking care of him. He smirked at the thought of them. Stupid useless muggles. Yet they had been entertaining enough, at times. He would lower the stipend but not end it. It would keep them on their toes and give him an excuse to drop by from time to time. He frowned when he saw that Albus Dumbledore had made several withdrawals during the years directly following the Potter's murder. He would inquire about that when he went to retrieve his cloak. No one stole from Death. Even if that money didn't officially belong to him, it was still his through his host. Once he was done, he bid the goblin goodbye and left the office to catch up with Snape.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>

**Hey everyone, sorry for taking so long to post, both me and my beta reader have been quite busy recently... XD **

**I hope you liked this chapter. I ended up putting only the Gringotts part of Diagon Alley because it is already quite long as it is. **

**Next will be the rest of Diagon alley with Ollivander and hopefully many others. XD**

**What do you think of my decision of not giving Harry too many assets/titles? I thought that since he's already Death, he doesn't really need many titles. Plus since he's Death, he will most likely not be a horcrux. **

**Reviews/comments/suggestions are welcome! :)**


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